Stock
up on these recent local releases to keep your ears healthy,
wealthy, and wise

We
Are Jeneric

Animals
Are People Too

Regarding children’s literature, Anton Chekhov wrote that
“one should give children only what is also suitable for adults.”
Regarding music, We Are Jeneric seem to claim that the converse
is at least as true.

Like
an increasing number of area bands, the duo spent this February
holed up, whiling away the deep winter on the RPM Challenge
to record an album in a month. By the time the weather turned
warm, the album had grown into a full-fledged LP, and the
couple’s Altamont farm had become a cacophonous menagerie
of wildlife. Animals Are People Too documents the creatures
that cohabit their land. It’s a cute idea, one that Eric Krans
outwardly recognizes as customary for children’s music, but
not exclusively so. The end product is a collection of songs
and musical sketches that can be as dark and eerie as they
are playfully anthropomorphizing, and hang together like a
concept album ought.

It should come as no surprise to hear that Krans and Jen O’Connor
received plenty of assistance from their Hobo Banned-mates,
but the duo’s true third member is the parlor of their 19th-century
farmhouse, in which the album was recorded. Fragmentary tracks
like “The Bats and the Bugs” and “A Sister and Brother in
the Kitchen Trying to Fly Like Eagles by Jumping Off of Counters”
utilize lo-fi production techniques, like incantatory vocals
mixed beneath clattering percussion and found sounds (church
bells), to generate that “bedroom confessional” quality. A
parlor is a meeting place, though, so much of the album is
upbeat, uninhibited, and socially inviting. “The March of
the Coyote” opens the album with ragged, brassy fanfare, calling
to mind Beirut’s polyethnic dabbling. Similarly, “Crawfish
and Frogs” lilts forward at an Afro-Cuban clip, and “Hey Mama
Oriole, Over Here It’s Me” draws its spirit from a West African
guitar riff.

Throughout,
Krans stretches his voice to suit the various idioms, reaching
for a mannered falsetto on “Turkey Vultures,” and reverting
to a spoken reggae toast to chastise an invasive woodchuck
on “Sir Charles the II.” Meanwhile, O’Connor’s voice provides
steady counterpoint, doubled to spooky effect on “Murder of
Crows,” and feathered into the toy-piano lullaby “Deer, Oh
Dear.” The album’s strongest tracks, though, are the one’s
in which the parlor has been filled (at least ostensibly),
and a crowd of humans sing the part of “Nocturnal Animals”
coming out of hiding.

As a whole, Animals Are People Too isn’t a bunch of
“Old MacDonald” or even “Rocky Raccoon.” As the title suggests,
animals can serve the same social functions that humans can,
and, to rural people, their stories can be as relevant as
the ones of their human neighbors. Sure, there’s something
playfully childish about all this, but kids (and squirrels)
have more fun anyway.

—Josh
Potter

Aficionado

The
Myth About Real Life

For
the follow up to their self-produced Circus Music concept
album from last year, the genre-defying (some would say indie-prog)
Albany band Aficionado brought their prodigious crew of horns,
mandolin, flute, guitars, drums and assorted other instruments
to producer Don Fury’s Troy studio to record the exceptionally
creative The Myth About Real Life, a whirling dervish
of an EP that does justice and then some to the band’s legendarily
frenetic live performances. A wall of horns and a twittering
flute punctuate the anthemic title track about the perils
of taking life too seriously, while the band wave their ’70s
progressive-rock flag high on the carnivalesque “I Don’t Believe
We’ve Met” and “Naysayers”—epic jams, the latter with a “Roundabout”-worthy
keyboard breakdown.

—Kirsten
Ferguson

Michael
Benedict Jazz Vibes

The
Next Phase

Recorded
in the aftermath of the passing of his wife, Gail, veteran
jazz percussionist and Greene County music teacher Michael
Benedict responds to his personal tragedy with a hushed sense
of resolve on this, his second release as a leader in the
small-band format. The songs selected reflect Benedict’s keen
interest in developing themes first developed by a former
mentor, the often-overlooked musician Gary McFarland. These
explorations are usually a refreshing take on the jazz-samba
sound. Benedict’s clean and nimble vibraphone playing is the
star attraction, but he also leaves plenty of room for his
young band members to shine, with pianist Dave Solazzo playing
with a particular dazzle and force throughout. High points
include a lovely vocal performance by Julia Donnaruma on McFarland’s
“Sack Full of Dreams,” and an exciting jaunt through tenor
sax player Lee Russo’s “The Abenaki,” a gem reminiscent of
the great Coltrane Quartet. A laid-back but involving album,
perfect as a remedy for the cold and dark months ahead.

—Mike
Hotter

The
Cave Weddings

The
Cave Weddings

Flying
largely under the radar, a trio of accomplished garage-rockers
from the heartland relocated to the Capital Region in the
past year to attend grad school at UAlbany.

Hopefully they’ll stay around a while. In a relatively short
period of time, the group, now based in Troy, injected a burst
of energy into the local music scene, bringing out-of-town
garage bands here to play, releasing a 7-inch single on Chicago
punk label HoZac Records, and putting out this limited-edition
five-song EP of lo-fi, high-energy, retro guitar pop. With
a shambolic beat and a chorus of catchy ba-ba-ba’s, lead track
“Let’s Drive” channels both the Beach Boys and Ritchie Valens’
“Come On, Let’s Go,” while “When the Lights Go Out” recalls
the best of the Phil Spector girl groups—hand claps and harmonies
galore. More, please.

—Kirsten
Ferguson

Alta
Mira

Alta
Mira

It’s
been two long years since Metroland named Alta Mira
the region’s Best New Band, and so there’d been some speculation
that the category might carry a curse similar to that of being
featured on the cover. [Ed.—We have determined the curse
to be a myth.] As it turns out, the quartet had simply
been cloistered away at Barefoot Studios in Massachusetts
honing material for this, their full-length debut, the inaugural
record for Albany upstart label Indian Ledge Records.

Thankfully, all that attention to detail has paid off, as
Alta Mira is a powerfully mature offering that doesn’t
shy away from either art-rock grandeur or radio viability.
Vocalist Joe D. Michon-Huneau doesn’t hesitate to display
all that his sterling pipes can do, with a post-emo penchant
for musical theatrics that ranges from Jeff Buckley confessional
to Cedric Bixler-Zavala virtuosic. But as much as Michon-Huneau
dominates the disc, brothers Hunter and August Sagehorn (guitar
and bass, respectively) shape it. Standout tracks like “Sinker/Or,”
with its Sea and Cake lilt, and “Slumberjack,” built on a
bed of fuzz bass, prove that the band are hiding some serious
chops behind their economic songcraft. Like a post-Radiohead
Andy Summers, Hunter prefers to play delicate time-signature
games with his brother and drummer Tommy Krebs rather than
take a solo, and “Harder They Fall” succumbs to outward because-we-can
prog-rock. Dig the hazy “Interlude” for what the instrumental
trio can do by their lonesome.

Graced with the kind of masterly production that used to be
reserved for major-label acts, this is a serious disc from
a band with serious aspirations. More than shake a curse,
this one should set Alta Mira up for loftier superlatives.

—Josh
Potter

Public
Noise Concern

Yesterday’s
Trash Is Full

Last
February, as BMX bikers and skateboarders executed tricks
off ramps near the stage, Public Noise Concern—an “all-girl”
punk trio from East Greenbush—competed in a battle of the
bands contest, hosted by local radio personality Ralph Renna,
at the Shelter Skate Park and Shop in Albany. Skaters and
spectators alike cast their votes for PNC as the best band
of the day, and the trio won the contest’s top prize: studio
time donated by influential producer Don Fury, who had opened
his new recording and mastering studio in Troy just months
before. Yesterday’s Trash Is Full is the result of
that session: a four-song EP capturing the trio’s considerable
pop-punk charms. Though barely out of their teens (if that),
the scrappy threesome (Katie, guitar; Heidi, drums; and Kate,
bass and vocals) have a five-year history of playing together.
The camaraderie comes through on a pair of fast-paced kiss-off
tunes for the doubters and haters, “Out in the Open” and “Yesterday’s
Trash,” but also on the more dire but personally affecting
closing track, “Don’t Be Emo About Chemo.”

—Kirsten
Ferguson

Dan
Berggren, John Kirk, and Chris Shaw

North
River, North Woods

The
cover photo of a mountain stream in winter sets the tone for
the recording within: North River, North Woods, by
upstate folkies Dan Berggren, John Kirk and Christopher Shaw,
offers a tonic of traditional and contemporary acoustic music,
much of it sounding like it originated in the 1800s, a time
when large tracts of the Adirondack Mountains that the record
celebrates had yet to be seriously explored.

Although the three have been mainstays of the local folk scene
for years, this release marks the first time they’ve joined
forces on an album. (Of the 17 tracks here, though, they play
as a trio on only seven of them, the remainder being duets
or solos.) Berggren, the songwriter and banjoist of the group,
contributes six original tunes, while fiddler-mandolinist-
guitarist-flautist Kirk serves as picker-in-chief. Although
they all sing, Chris Shaw is easily the best vocalist here,
his sturdy baritone bringing to mind Doc Watson’s resonant
pipes. Berggren, Kirk, and Shaw are also joined by guest artists
Garth Hudson (of The Band) on accordion, blueswoman Rory Block
on harmony vocals, fiddle whiz Cedar Stanistreet and Finest
Kind’s Ann Downey, who sings “Log Driver’s Waltz.”

The CD opens with Kirk’s fiddle on “Irishtown Breakdown” a
tune named after a small burg near Schroon Lake, and segues
into “Once More A-Lumbering Go,” a rousing heigh-ho type of
work song with a melody reminiscent of a Civil War anthem.
Another highlight is “The Ballad of Blue Mountain Lake,” sung
by Shaw, which chronicles the rowdy exploits of long-forgotten
local roughnecks. But the gem of the record is the majestic,
elegiac fiddle duet, “Be Thou My Vision,” played beautifully
by Kirk and Stanistreet. Folk fans will love this disc.

—Glenn
Weiser

The
Boston Celtics

The
End of Mont Pleasant

Don’t
let the name fool you. This isn’t some second-career foray
into hip-hop by the likes of Paul Pierce and Kevin Garnett;
although, it’s likely that Ryan Stewart and Richard Nolan
Jr. (also of Beware! The Other Head of Science) have fond
memories of Shaq’s fantastically bad “Shoot Pass Slam.” The
experimental pop duo’s debut is peppered with fleeting glimpses
of cultural kitsch (was that just a piece of the Jurassic
Park theme? An Alanis Morissette lyric?), but, unlike
many who wade into ironic waters, the pair has managed to
assemble an album that’s as sweet and true as it is fun.

With opener “Mont Pleasant,” the disc promises bedroom-tape
intimacy with acoustic guitar, melodica, and grand David Byrne-style
vocals, EQed for lo-fi haze. The vocals, however, are the
only bit that persists. “Let’s” has a jaunty Casio beat, a
la White Williams, that marks a turn into the cheeky synth
territory familiar to Beware. Along with tracks like “Paramour”
and the excellent “Eventuality,” the disc brings the laptop
dance party—in the “glo-fi” manner of Neon Indian and Memory
Tapes—but remains more complex (and, frankly, more enjoyable)
with tracks like “Bond of the Alderman,” a droning piano ballad,
and the spacious lament of “Pride.”

The term “experimental pop” can seem like a contradiction,
but the Boston Celtics make music that’s both altered and
accessible. Each track here is a thorny tangle of electronic
chatter and muddy human voices, but each one is also, undoubtedly,
a “song.” The End of Mont Pleasant isn’t really a bedroom
confessional or a party mix, but it might make you cry and/or
dance, hopefully at the same time.

—Josh
Potter

Eric
Margan and the Red Lions

Midnight
Book

Midnight
Book, the full-length debut released by Eric Margan and
his Red Lions troupe back in spring, is one of the most notable
local releases of 2009, if not the most ambitious. The loosely
themed song cycle follows a romance from its thrilling beginning
to its disillusioned end; in a dozen baroque-pop tracks, the
album wraps references to Greek mythology, ancient Roman history
and recurring water metaphors in gorgeous layers of ornate
instrumentation.

Margan, a classically trained 22-year-old Columbia County
native, composed and arranged Midnight Book for an
ensemble including the core Red Lions quartet (Margan, drummer
James Bertini, guitarist/keyboardist Rick Spataro and bassist-guitarist
Scott Kellerhouse) and additional piano, trumpet, violin and
cello players. The results are impressive. From the sparkling
piano flourishes that start off album-opener “An Ocean Blue”
(when giddy lovers meet) to the mournful strings that capture
the relationship’s demise on closer “Without the Sun,” Midnight
Book is melodically memorable and lushly elaborate without
being overwrought.

—Kirsten
Ferguson

Bone
Parade

Vollmondlieder

It’s
rare when a band’s style heading on their MySpace page actually
describes the way that band sounds—especially if they trend
toward the experimental end of things—but “ethereal doom”
seems to sum up Bone Parade rather well. A sense of unease
(maybe even disease) arises from the opening swell of “Mandragora”
and carries through the duration of Vollmondlieder,
a five-track EP by married duo and Albany Sonic Arts Collective
regulars Kevin Johnston and Erica Sparrow. From the hand-sewn
sleeve to the collaged liner-notes, this one’s a real-deal
short-run underground CD-R release, that is, a genuine labor
of love—which makes the music therein all the more disturbing.

Johnston’s bleak drones pair scorched bass with windy atmospherics
in a manner that owes more to doom metal acts like Sunn O)))
and Boris than abrasive industrial bands like Einstürzende
Neubauten. It’s more foreboding than combative, but it’s still
the kind of stuff you’ll fear playing at high volumes while
understanding that loud is the only way it really works.

Sparrow takes the hooded occult ritualism of the music one
step further with chilling churchy vocals. On “Mandragora”
she uses Johnston’s sonic canvas as the basis for an operatic
German Lied. On “Selenite,” she floats while Johnston blacksmiths
a thunderous dirge. However, it’s in the Gregorian incantation
of “Remember/we are not this” on “The White Ship Has Sailed,”
and the spoken-word narration of “Death and the Maiden” that
the doom gets grounded in ideas. Oddly, and interestingly,
this is pastoral music that credits the fall of humanity with
the rise of the machine but uses both forces equally. Ethereal
doom, indeed.